


grand romantic gestures

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: leaps of faith [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, femslash calendiles!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: “You’re telling me,” Buffy was saying, “that Ms. Calendar recreated the ritual to restore Angel’s soul, and then Angel killed her for it.”“Yep,” said Willow’s voice.“Is…Gil okay?”“I, um,” Gil had a feeling Willow was glancing over at her closed office door, “I don’t know.”





	1. Chapter 1

Gil walked down to Jenny’s grave and knelt down on the wet grass, placing a hand on the tombstone.

“I hate that he killed you,” she said very quietly. “But I know he didn’t know about me. There was a reason you died, and I’ll find it out for you. I can promise you that.”

* * *

Jenny hadn’t liked once-upon-a-times and soulmates and flowery stories about true love’s kiss. She said that soulmates were ridiculous and generally pretty heteronormative anyway and it took away from the fact that she was with a ridiculous, sweet, librarian-Watcher who just happened to be a lady. 

Gil had said that there was always something to be found in tradition. Jenny had said that yes, there was, but tradition shouldn’t be held up as this incredible standard when it was really something that should constantly be evolving and changing with the times. “Time isn’t stagnant, and customs shouldn’t be either,” she’d said, and Gil had kissed her, partly because she loved the way Jenny’s mind worked but also because she loved Jenny.

Had loved. Did past tense become a permanent part of Gil’s life, now that Jenny was dead? She hated that.

But now Jenny was stagnant. Death was unchanging. Gil had found her in her classroom, neck snapped, dried blood on her temple. 

“Gil, I’m sorry about this,” said Buffy quietly, pausing by Gil’s office. “I—I know she was your friend.”

“Yes,” said Gil, and quietly tucked the photo strip from the monster truck rally back into its place at the bottom of her desk. “Friend.”

She would find out what happened. She knew it was Angelus who had killed Jenny, because Jenny had been posed artfully at her desk, the broken computer put back into its rightful place. Gil had seen Jenny’s silhouette through the door and her heart had done a happy little leap. She didn’t like that Jenny had stayed late, but she had been so relieved to see Jenny all right.

Angelus would have drunk from Jenny if it was a meaningless kill. This was the sort of thing he did if Jenny was a threat to him. Gil had read up enough about Angelus to know that this was his way of gloating, setting up his adversaries in a gruesome tableau. Feigned normalcy.

She couldn’t go after him, though. Not just yet. She had one thing on her side: Angelus didn’t know that Gil and Jenny had been in love. He didn’t think anyone would be looking out for Jenny now. The disgraced spy, the black sheep, the Scooby who Buffy had labeled as a traitor—no one would want to associate themselves with that, least of all the librarian so determined to play by the rules.

Gil smiled quietly. She would wait, and wait, and find a way to make him suffer unimaginably. That was the sort of thing she did.

* * *

Jenny’s computer was unsalvageable, and Snyder had already disposed of it anyway, but there was still the rest of her classroom to search. If there was some kind of secret project that Jenny had been working on in the classroom, perhaps there would be traces of it elsewhere. Gil went through Jenny’s desk. There were a few locked drawers, but she could always stop by Jenny’s apartment later and see if the key was there. Leaning over the top of the desk to examine the vase on the windowsill, her glasses slipped out of her jacket pocket and fell between the desk and the wall.

Bizarrely, Gil felt somehow worse about everything. This was the kind of thing that Jenny would tease her about, and she  _missed_ it. She moved the desk back from the wall, just a bit—

—and stopped.

Next to her glasses was an unlabeled yellow floppy disk. It didn’t look like it had been there for long; the plastic didn’t have any dust or grime on it at all. Gil picked it up, heart thudding in her chest. Regardless of whether or not it was of any consequence, it had still belonged to Jenny, and taking it felt just as wrong as trespassing.

Except Jenny was dead, and Gil needed to figure out why. Donning her glasses, she picked up the floppy disk, examining it more closely. There wasn’t any written indication of what the disk might contain, which seemed unusual for a disk belonging to Jenny. Perhaps this wasn’t hers after all.

“It was  _by her desk,_ ” Gil said firmly to herself, more out of a need to affirm that there was something left of Jenny than out of genuine belief. Pocketing the disk, she left the classroom, heading back into the library.

Willow was sitting at the table, crying quietly.

“Willow,” said Gil gently.

Willow looked up, sniffling loudly. “Oh,” she said, half-sobbing. “I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” replied Gil simply, sitting down next to her. 

“I just—she was my favorite teacher.” Willow scrubbed at her face. Gil handed her a handkerchief. “Thanks, Gil,” she said softly. “She was probably so scared, and I hate thinking about that, but I can’t stop lately, you know?”

Gil thought about the way Jenny had stood on tiptoe to kiss her. “I know,” she said.

“How are you holding up?” Willow asked. Her voice still sounded wobbly, but there was genuine sympathy in her eyes. “You guys were super close, weren’t you?”

They had never gotten around to telling the children. Right when they were on the cusp of becoming serious, Eyghon swooped in, and then after Jenny had crossbowed Gil and they’d reconciled, they were too wrapped up in each other and how much they’d missed being together to even remember they might want to tell anyone anything.

“Quite close,” said Gil quietly. She hurt. “Willow, I-I found a floppy disk in Jenny’s classroom. I was wondering if you would do me the favor of looking over it on the library computer right now?”

“Right now?” Willow echoed in surprise.

“It’s time-sensitive,” said Gil. It was, sort of. She held out the floppy disk.

Willow took it, squeezed Gil’s shoulder comfortingly, and headed over to the library computer, booting up the machine. Gil took off her glasses and polished them slowly, trying to focus on the smudges instead of the anxious feeling in her chest.

“Oh,” she heard Willow say softly.

“What is it?” said Gil, sharp and nervous.

“Come here and see.”

Gil hurried to look over Willow’s shoulder.

_What is lost, return._

_Not dead, nor not of the living,_

_spirits of the interregnum, I call…_

“Oh,” said Gil weakly.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re telling me,” Buffy was saying, “that Ms. Calendar recreated the ritual to restore Angel’s soul, and then Angel killed her for it.”

“Yep,” said Willow’s voice.

“Is…Gil okay?”

“I, um,” Gil had a feeling Willow was glancing over at her closed office door, “I don’t know. She shut herself in her office and she won’t talk to anyone.”

“Isn’t there a faculty meeting?”

“She told Snyder he could ‘sod off to hell.’”

“Wow. Okay. Let me see if I can talk to her.” Gil heard the sound of footsteps, and then three careful raps at the door. “Gil? It’s Buffy. Can I come in?”

Gil bit her lip until she tasted blood. It was taking an incredible amount of effort to not lose her composure, and she didn’t intend to waste it.

“I’m coming in,” came Buffy’s voice. Gil trained her eyes down to her desk, not daring to look at Buffy as she entered. “Hey,” she heard Buffy say. “Hey. Gil. This is good, right?”

“I’m going to kill him,” said Gil absently.

“Gil?”

“Angelus. I’m going to kill him.”

Buffy was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “Gil—I’m so sorry. I feel like she must have been trying to do this for us, and if I’d forgiven her sooner, if I’d let her—”

“This is not your fault,” said Gil fiercely, looking up at Buffy. “Do you understand me? This is  _not your fault,_ Buffy.”

Buffy shook her head. “I—” She sniffled. “It’s everyone’s and no one’s fault all at once, I guess,” she said finally. “Just like it was with Angelus.”

Gil didn’t know what to say to that.

“I wish I’d told her that,” said Buffy, and sat down on the edge of Giles’s desk. “I wish she knew I get it now. She was so—she just took it all. All our anger, and she still did this for us.”

Gil didn’t know what to say to that either. She felt a faint whisper of pride, looking at Buffy, but she was too tired and sad to remember how to articulate it. “I want to kill him,” she said finally. It was all she could come up with.

“Yeah, well,” Buffy slid off the desk and hugged Gil quietly, “I don’t want you dead.”

Gil leaned into her. It was a mark of how drained she was that she couldn’t remember exactly why letting one’s Slayer give hugs was frowned upon by the Watchers’ Council. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

Buffy laughed a little tiredly. Then she said, “I wish I’d gotten to know her a little more. She seemed nice.”

“She was,” said Gil. “She was very loving.”

Buffy was quiet for a while, then said, “I’m sorry. Really. It sucks to lose a friend.”

The moment shattered. Gil pressed her lips together and got up, pushing past Buffy as she exited the office. She kept her eyes down, fixed on the floor, and walked until she reached her car, at which point she felt her knees give way. She leaned hard against the car and realized that she’d been clenching her fists so hard that her nails had dug into her palms.

“Lover,” she said to the empty parking lot. “She was my lover.”

Not that it really mattered  _now._ Not that it was something she could tell the children. It had nothing to do with coming out, or being afraid of what they’d think; it was simply that she couldn’t talk about their relationship in the past tense.  _We were, we used to be, we had been._

Gil unlocked her car and sat down in the driver’s seat. She wondered how far she could drive, and for how long, before she ran out of gas. She wondered what Buffy would think of her running off like that for no apparent reason.

Someone got in and sat down next to her.

“You know,” said Willow, very quietly, “you guys weren’t super subtle.”

Gil kept her eyes fixed ahead of her. There was an empty, tired feeling in her chest.

“I went back to get my jacket one time, and I saw her kissing you in the stacks,” said Willow. “I never told Buffy.” There wasn’t judgment in her voice, just a gentle reassurance that was somehow worse than any reprimand.

Gil didn’t  _want_ to need reassurance. Gil wanted  _Jenny_. “Thank you,” she said quietly, but she still couldn’t look over at Willow.

“Of course,” said Willow simply. After a moment, “I don’t know what to say here. I just thought you might want to know. That someone knows what you lost.”

Gil really did look over at Willow at that. “You’re a remarkably perceptive girl,” she said finally, her voice shaking.

Willow smiled a little shyly. Then, hesitantly, “I was—after I saw you guys, I started really thinking about things, and—I don’t know why I’m telling you this—Gil, when did—when did you know you were gay?”

Abruptly, Gil understood. “Bisexual, actually,” she said, “and it took a bit to figure it out. The Council isn’t all that welcoming to the concept.”

Willow nodded thoughtfully. Hesitantly, she added, “Is high school too early to tell?”

Gil shook her head. “You can define yourself however you want, whenever you want,” she said. “Jenny figured out she was attracted to girls when she was about your age.”

Willow smiled, then stopped smiling. She sniffled. “For a second—” she began, then scooted a little closer to Gil. “For a second, I—I forgot. You know?”

“I know,” said Gil heavily.

Willow rested her head on Gil’s shoulder.

Someone knocked on the car window. Gil jumped a little before turning her head; Buffy was looking in anxiously at both of them, Xander hovering apprehensively next to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel like I might have missed a memo about something, and whatever it is, I’m sorry for it.”

“It’s quite all right,” said Gil. “Would you like to come in?”

“To your car?” Buffy’s nose wrinkled.

“It’s nice in here,” said Willow without moving her head. 

Buffy hesitated, then opened the door. Xander pushed past her, lounging in the entirety of the backseat. “You know, you’d think Gil would have a girly car or something,” he commented, “instead of this sad rust bucket.”

“I think we should call it a Sad Rust Bucket,” Buffy agreed, pushing Xander’s legs off the seat so that she could sit down. “Sounds better than a Citroen.”

“Debatable,” said Gil. Willow giggled.

* * *

Gil fell asleep researching and dreamed of Jenny, disjointed images that ended with that awful morning in her classroom.She woke up out of breath, heart pounding. “Hey,” she heard someone saying. “ _Hey._ Gil.”

Gil scrubbed at her face, turning to see a worried Xander. “My apologies,” she said, trying her best to control herself. It wasn’t working. She felt ridiculous. “Nightmare. I’m sorry. What is it you want?”

Xander sat down next to Gil and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about Ms. Calendar,” he said quietly. “It must have hit you really hard if you’re ruining that stiff-upper-lip British street cred.”

Gil laughed weakly. “Quite,” she agreed vaguely. “Thank you.”

“So, uh, Buffy and Willow are bringing in all the supplies for the spell,” Xander continued, a strange note to his voice. “If you feel up to doing it.”

Gil thought about the fact that Angel would get a second chance, and that Jenny wouldn’t. Then she thought about the fact that Jenny had died fighting to give Angel that second chance, and imagined erasing all the hard work her lover had done out of spite for Angelus, who wasn’t even Angel. “I do,” she said with finality. “I—it’s what Jenny would have wanted.”

Xander nodded, pressing his lips together. Then he said, “You don’t think it’s unfair?”

“Unfair?” Gil echoed.

“That Angelus gets to live and Ms. Calendar ends up dead.” There was a note of anger in Xander’s voice, and it made Gil wonder whether he’d brought up these concerns with Buffy and Willow before taking them her. “Like—don’t you want Angelus dead for what he did to your best friend?”

Truthfully, Gil wanted to never hear anyone call Jenny her  _best friend_ again. “No,” she said simply, fixing her eyes on her hands. “Jenny would have wanted Angel to get a second chance.”

“But is it what  _you_ want?” Xander pushed.

“Xander, I don’t—I don’t want to talk about this,” said Gil. Her words came out shaky and sad.

Xander seemed to recognize that he’d crossed some kind of a line, because he mumbled his assent and didn’t say anything for the next few minutes. Gil felt gratified and guilty at the same time.

She thought about Jenny, which was a mistake, because thinking about Jenny meant thinking about how the  _really_ unfair part of all this was that Jenny wouldn’t get to see her hard work come to fruition. Gil got up and started taking books off the shelves, throwing them down helter-skelter so that she could put them back in alphabetical order. That sort of thing always made her feel better.

“Gil,” she heard someone saying.

“A moment, please,” said Gil distantly. “I must reorganize this section.”

She felt a small hand on her elbow. “Gil,” said Willow, and Gil was reminded of the fact that she was suddenly a very prominent role model in Willow’s life on more than one level. It really wouldn’t do for Willow to be in the vicinity when the only (alive) sapphic woman she’d known was having a rather impressive emotional breakdown. “Come on. We need to get to work on the spell.”

Gil looked down at the books. “Right,” she said, and felt a lump in her throat. This was where Jenny would— _should_ —be there for her. Jenny always had been there for her. “Of course.”

Willow smiled encouragingly at her and headed back over to the table. “Okay,” she said to the group. “Gil’s going to do her best to perform the spell. I’m going to help. Buffy, you need to keep Angelus away from the library. I don’t  _think_ he’ll sense anything’s up, but on the off chance that he does, we’re not exactly the best fighters, so it’s important that we’ve got Slayer strength on our side.”

It felt a bit strange to see Willow so composed and in charge. It made Gil feel proud and nervous at the same time.

“On it,” said Buffy, picking up a stake and pocketing it. “I’ll go looking for Angel.”

“ _Don’t,_ ” said Gil without thinking, a sudden rush of panic hitting her. She couldn’t be Buffy’s mother, but—

“I’m going to be fine,” said Buffy gently, smiling at Gil in a way that didn’t really make Gil feel much better.

“Actually, Gil’s right,” said Willow suddenly. “You go after Angel on your lonesome and he’ll  _know_ something’s up. You have to go on patrol like you normally would.”

Buffy glanced with worry around the library. “What if he figures something out and I’m not here to stop him from hurting you guys?” she asked nervously.

“Then we play it by ear,” said Gil.

“That isn’t helpful, Gil,” said Buffy with some irritation. “You may have been a demon summoner in your heyday, but I don’t think there’s any chance of you being able to fight Angelus and live.” 

“Fine,” said Gil sharply without thinking. Buffy’s eyes widened, but Gil found herself too angry to backtrack. “Jenny died to give Angelus a second chance,” she said. “I’ll die before I let her death lose its meaning.”

There was a long silence. Then Buffy said quietly, “Gil, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“You won’t,” said Gil with conviction, even though she knew she had no reason to be so sure of herself. All she could think about was the worn, tired look in Jenny’s eyes during the last weeks of her life. She wouldn’t let Jenny’s pain and kindness be forgotten. She wouldn’t let Jenny die forgotten.  _That_ she was sure of. “Just go about your patrol like normal. That’s the best chance we have of making sure Angelus doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Gil—”

“ _Buffy._ ”

Buffy pressed her lips together. “This is risky,” she said. “I don’t want you guys getting hurt for Angel’s sake.”

“You know, I never thought I’d say this about an Angel-related matter, but I’m with Buffy,” said Xander suddenly, a sharp note in his voice. “Since when does Angel deserve a second chance? Especially when it’s putting all our necks on the line to try and give one to him.”

“Jenny put  _her_ neck on the line,” began Gil, livid.

“And we all saw where that got her _,_ ” said Xander angrily.

“Don’t you  _ever speak of her in that tone again—_ ” Gil started, her voice raising to a shout.

“ _Hey!_ ” shouted Buffy. “Xander,  _back off._ You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Xander, if you don’t want to be a part of this, you don’t have to be,” said Willow quietly. “But I’m not doing this for Angel, and I don’t think Gil is either.”

The library went very quiet.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Xander finally. “It’s still Angel that gets what he wants.” He turned, striding out of the library without looking back.

Gil went over to the half-empty shelf and threw a few more books onto the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Gil had held Jenny, she’d  _known._ Just like that. They’d been dancing at the Bronze, Gil stumbling a bit to keep up with the fast beat of the song, and Jenny had very quietly put her arms around Gil’s shoulders, steadying her. Grounding her. The song had turned slow and quiet, and all of Gil’s world was condensed to Jenny’s soft, dark eyes. They’d snuck outside and kissed for hours in the alley.

Gil was thinking about those kisses when she cast the spell. She couldn’t focus in on anger, or hate, because that wasn’t why Jenny had decided to recreate the ritual. Gil couldn’t dishonor Jenny’s memory by casting her last work out of vengeance. Jenny had wanted to help Angel out of compassion, so Gil would finish it out of love.

She felt it work before she saw the Orb glow and heard Willow’s soft gasp. It hadn’t felt like as much of an effort as she’d been expecting.

“Did it work?” Willow inquired uncertainly.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” said Gil, and sniffled. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. Getting up off the table, she began to pick up books from where she’d thrown them, reshelving them meticulously.

Willow hurried to stand next to her, handing Gil a few books to reshelve. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope—I hope it  _does_ work.”

Gil shrugged. Personally, she’d much rather Angelus die a fiery, painful death, but Jenny had wanted this for Angel. She knew she was happy about the possibility of fulfilling Jenny’s last wish, but she also knew she was angry that there was a chance that Angelus might resurface again. It was all rather confusing, and she still missed Jenny quite badly.

The phone rang. 

Willow gave Gil a furtive look. “Do you want to get it?” she asked.

“I—” Gil breathed out. “Yes,” she said finally, handing Willow the book she was holding and hurrying to the phone. She hesitated before picking up the phone.

 _“Gil.”_ Buffy was half-crying.  _“Gil. He—he’s—Angel._ ”

“Did it work?” Gil asked a bit flatly.

_“I—I invited him i-in. He’s having hot cocoa with my mom and—Gil, he’s Angel. He’s back.”_

“Right,” said Gil. “Thank you for checking in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_“No, hold on, he—wants to talk to you, okay? Just—please stay on the line. One sec.”_

Gil heard Buffy fumbling with the phone. She wasn’t sure if  _she_ wanted to talk to  _Angel,_ actually, especially if he was going to apologize for Jenny’s death or something like that. Or—he wouldn’t, because he hadn’t known that Gil had loved Jenny. Somehow, that was worse. She stayed on the line.

 _“Gil.”_ Angel’s voice was heavy with guilt.  _“I—you were close to Ms. Calendar.”_

There was something strange about the way he said that, like he knew something that Gil didn’t. “We found the body,” she said a bit crisply, trying her best to stay detached from the situation. The Model Watcher, as it were.

_“But I’m guessing you wouldn’t have found the bite mark.”_

The bottom fell out of Gil’s world.

 _“He bit her,”_ Angel was saying.  _“…I bit her. On her shoulder, so no one would notice. I was banking on the body being taken away before you guys could find her, but it seems like no one found—”_

Gil hung up.

“Gil?” Willow hurried into the room, eyes wide and worried. “What’s going on?”

Gil found the small knife hidden at the bottom of her drawer and pocketed it. Pushing roughly past Willow, she hurried out of the library, heading to her car.

Jenny had soft, dark eyes and a sweet smile and loved the world even when it told her over and over that she couldn’t give it anything and loved Gil even when she was a disaster and Jenny would not be a vampire. Jenny would not be a vampire. Gil had just lost her. She couldn’t face the person who had loved her the most and watch something evil twist that love so that it could hurt her.

Angelus must have known. He must have, or he wouldn’t have turned her. Gil was barely conscious of the road, of the turns she was making, of the walk up the steps to Buffy’s house. Joyce answered the door. “Ms. Gillian,” she began with surprise, but she must have seen something in Gil’s eyes that made her falter, because Gil pushed past her easily. 

Angel was sitting at the table with Buffy, both of them talking in quiet, sad voices. Gil sunk the knife into his left shoulder.

* * *

“Gil,  _Gil,_ ” Buffy was all but screaming, and Angel was sprawled on the floor, and Joyce was screaming and trying to pull Gil off Angel. The knife was still stuck in his shoulder.

“You knew,” Gil shouted at him, scratching at his face. “You  _knew_ what she was to me.”

Angel caught Gil’s hands, sitting up and pulling her with him. “I’m sorry,” he said, and looked it.

“That’s not enough for me,” said Gil, and reached for the knife. Buffy grabbed her hands, forcing them behind her back. “Get  _off!_ ”

“ _Gil,_ ” said Buffy, voice breaking. “Please—what happened?”

“You don’t care, then,” said Gil matter-of-factly. “Or did he not tell you yet?”

Angel looked abashed. “I—I was working towards it.”

“Let go of me, Buffy,” Gil ordered.

“I think Buffy’s got the right idea,” said Joyce shakily.

“He  _killed_ her,” said Gil. Her voice shook. “He killed her, and  _I’m_ the one being treated like the criminal.”

“It wasn’t  _him,_ ” Buffy persisted. Her fingers dug into Gil’s wrists. “You know it wasn’t, Gil. Angelus isn’t Angel.”

“If he feels guilty for killing my Jenny,” said Gil, looking directly into Angel’s eyes, “then he’s close enough for me.”

“ _Your_ Jenny?” Buffy repeated, sounding surprised and confused. Her hands loosened. Gil jerked herself away from Buffy’s grasp, pulling herself to her feet and glancing distantly down at the bruises on her wrist.

“What’s going on?” Joyce demanded. “Did this Angel kill someone?”

“Jenny Calendar,” said Gil somewhat distantly. “Jennifer on her tombstone.”

Joyce turned to Buffy. “Is this true?” she inquired, sounding almost pleading. “Buffy—you wouldn’t invite a murderer in, would you?”

“I never would,” said Buffy, eyes on Gil. “And Angel’s not a murderer.”

“Buffy, this isn’t your problem,” said Angel quietly.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Gil took a step toward Angel as he stood. Buffy made a move toward her, but Angel threw out a hand, blocking her off. “You kill the woman I love, you—you tell me  _over the phone_ that you  _sired_ her and now I’ll have to stake her—”

“Wait.” Gil could see the sudden comprehension on Buffy’s face. “Angel. Angel, tell me you didn’t—”

“It isn’t a  _fucking problem,_ ” Gil shouted, and might have launched herself at Angel again if she hadn’t been shaking almost too hard to stand.

“Oh my  _god,_ ” said Buffy. She was crying. “Oh, god, Ms.  _Calendar,_ Angel, how  _could_ you?”

“I think I should go,” said Angel quietly. “Buffy—”

But Buffy was burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. Joyce wrapped an arm around Buffy’s waist, still looking thoroughly confused.

Angel looked helplessly over at Gil.

“Jenny gave you mercy,” said Gil coldly. “I won’t be so lenient next time Angelus comes back.”

And she  _knew._ She knew she was being unfair. She knew that Angel wasn’t Angelus. But Gil remembered how Jenny had looked on that terrible day, still and cold at the broken shell of her computer, and that wasn’t something she could forgive anyone for.

* * *

Gil drove down to Jenny’s grave and sat down by the tombstone. She wondered how long it would be before Jenny rose again. She wondered if she’d want to be there for it. It would be terribly frightening to wake up in a box underground, too, even if one didn’t need to breathe. Perhaps a familiar face—

“Bloody sodding hell,” said Gil a bit tearfully and buried her face in her hands. Jenny was dead. Jenny was  _dead_. What came back would have all those memories, but it wouldn’t be Jenny, and it wasn’t right for Gil to feel compassion towards it.

Except Jenny, who had cared more than so many people Gil had met, deserved to be met with that same kind of care right back. Gil couldn’t just stake her like any other vampire. She  _wasn’t_ any other vampire. She was the woman who had created a way to  _help—_

Gil stopped, studying the tombstone. Her heart was pounding in her throat. “Oh,” she said softly.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you serious?”

“Quite,” said Gil calmly. “We may need to get our hands on another Thesulan Orb, but other than that—”

“I can do that for you,” said Angel quietly. Along with the kids, Gil had also called him for the emergency two-in-the-morning Scooby Meeting, mostly because if they were ensouling another vampire, it might be helpful to have someone who had already gone through the process.

“Fine,” said Gil. “Good. You do that. I’ll begin setting up the ritual again. Keep in mind that—”

“Gil,” said Buffy suddenly. “Are you sure we can put a soul in a body if the vampire hasn’t risen yet?”

“Yeah, that’s the part that seems kinda dicey to me,” Willow added. “Even if Angel  _does_ get back with the Orb before Ms. Calendar gets all fangy, I don’t think we can really curse a dead body with a soul.”

“And what if Angel  _doesn’t_ get back and we have to deal with a vamped-out Ms. Calendar?” Cordelia added from the table. “We can’t stake her if we’re trying to make sure we can save her.”

“Then I’ll subdue her when she rises and bring her back to the library,” said Gil firmly.

Buffy bit her lip. “Gil, I don’t know,” she said. “This could be really dangerous.”

“I’m—” Gil hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to divulge. “Closest to her out of all of us,” she said finally. “I  _want_ to bring her back.”

“Well—”

“I think Gil’s right,” Willow piped up. Gil gave her a tired, grateful smile, which she returned. “If anyone should bring back Ms. Calendar, it’s definitely her. She’s the one who cast the spell for Angel in the first place.”

“You were?” Angel sounded startled.

“That was before I knew about Jenny,” said Gil, not looking at Angel. “It certainly wasn’t out of affection for Angel.”

“Well, yeah.” Willow smiled with a sad kind of knowledge. “I know  _that._ ”

Angel gave them both a strange look, as though finally figuring something out. Slowly, he said, “Gil, you, uh, when you attacked me, you kept on saying that I knew what Ms. Calendar was to you.”

The library went quiet.

“That’s not really important right now, though, is it?” said Willow very pointedly. “We have bigger fish to fry. Like making sure Ms. Calendar doesn’t hurt anyone when she rises from her grave.”

“ _Or,_ ” said Buffy suddenly, “we could make it a little easier on all of us.”

“What are you saying?” said Xander somewhat uneasily.

“Angel,” said Buffy, “you turned Ms. Calendar, right? Like—you sucked her blood, then she sucked your blood—”

“Good lord,” said Gil in a small, sad voice. She hadn’t thought about that.

“—and there’s no way that she’s not going to turn into a vampire?” Buffy finished.

Angel glanced nervously over at Gil. Reluctantly, he said, “Unless something’s drastically changed about the siring process, there’s no way Ms. Calendar won’t turn into a vampire.”

Buffy nodded, satisfied. “Cool,” she said. “Then we can dig up her grave.”

“ _What?_ ” said Gil and Willow at the same time.

Buffy winced. “Look,” she said carefully, “I know it’s not the most, um, respectful way of handling things, but that way we’ll be able to take immediate action once Ms. Calendar vamps out. We can lock her coffin in the book cage—”

“Excuse me,” said Gil, beginning to leave the library.

“No, Gil, you need to be here for this,” said Willow anxiously, grabbing at Gil’s hand.

“I  _can’t,_ ” said Gil, her voice breaking. Mortified, she jerked her hand away from Willow’s. “I simply—if there’s grave digging to be done, I can’t be a part of it.”

“But you’re okay with it?” said Buffy hesitantly. “It’s the best option we’ve got.”

Gil nodded tensely. “Just—” She drew in a breath. “Please hurry,” she said finally.

“We will,” Buffy agreed. “Should we get started now?”

“I don’t know when she’s gonna rise,” said Angel. “It varies from vampire to vampire. We should get her to the library as fast as we can, and definitely not in direct sunlight, so now would be the best time.”

“I think I’m going to stay with Gil,” said Willow quietly. “I—don’t know if I can handle knowing that—Ms. Calendar—that she’s in there.”

Buffy looked at Willow, then hugged her gently. “Okay,” she said, and sniffled. “Okay. We’re going to go save Ms. Calendar. Just like she saved us.”

“Preferably before the sun beats down and fries her like a pancake,” said Xander. “Oz, can you drive?”

“I’m not coming, either,” Cordelia interjected. “I don’t care  _who’s_ in that grave. Grave robbing is just creepy. Remember that guy who was cutting up dead girls?”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” said Xander somewhat irritably. “Come on, Buff. We should get started before sunrise.”

* * *

The two-hour wait for the children to return was one of the tensest early mornings Gil had ever spent at the library. Willow got some microwavable popcorn, brewed a fairly awful pot of tea, and quietly drank it in a corner. Cordelia fell asleep thirty minutes in with something about needing her beauty rest. Gil draped a blanket over her and tried to read, but all she could think about was Jenny, and what would happen if this didn’t work. Or if it did.

She would have Jenny back, sort of. Possibly not all the way back. Definitely not “back” in the sense that Jenny could resume her job at Sunnydale High and stop by the library to kiss Gil on the cheek and do all sorts of normal human things without worrying about exposure to sunlight or a stake to the heart.

To be fair, worrying about a stake to the heart wasn’t exclusive to vampires. Gil took a sip of Willow’s too-weak tea and dumped half the sugar bowl in it.

The door opened. Xander and Oz came through first, followed by Buffy and Angel, who were both carefully maneuvering Jenny’s coffin towards the book cage. Gil felt abruptly nauseous and took a sip of the tea. It didn’t really help.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit in the book cage,” said Buffy quietly. “Not without adjustments.”

Angel hesitated, then said, “If you wanted, I could take her out of the coffin and carry her in—”

“No,” said Gil sharply.

There was a long silence.

“I’ll do it,” said Gil, more quietly this time. “If you’ll all just give me some privacy, please.”

Buffy hesitated, helping Angel lower the coffin to the ground. “Gil, you don’t need to do this,” she began.

“I do,” said Gil. “I’m not letting him touch her again.” Angel looked down. Gil felt a spiteful satisfaction at that. “And I’m certainly not putting any of you through that,” she added more gently, looking specifically over at a pale Willow (who hadn’t once looked away from the coffin). “It has to be me.”

“Gil—” Willow began a little nervously.

“She’s right,” said Xander reluctantly. “It’s got to be her. Can’t be any of us.” He glanced at Buffy. “We’ll wait outside, okay?” he said. 

“Just try and set something up so that the sunlight won’t hit her,” Buffy added.

“I do know what I’m doing,” said Gil irritably, watching them all leave.

As soon as she was alone in the library, she suddenly felt much less composed; it was as though all the emotions she’d bottled up had returned in full force. Gil breathed out, tears in her eyes, and knelt down next to the coffin, opening it with care.

Jenny looked peaceful. Someone at the morgue had closed her eyes. Gil remembered reading something about how vampirism naturally preserved the body before the vampire rose. Hesitantly, she brushed Jenny’s hair aside, moving the collar of her soft black dress ever so slightly to the side. 

There were tooth marks on Jenny’s shoulder. Gil thought about how  _very_ much she would like to kill Angelus, and readjusted the collar before carefully picking Jenny up. It felt like Jenny was asleep. She could pretend that Jenny was asleep. Jenny  _was,_ in a way.

Gil awkwardly opened the door of the book cage, jostling Jenny slightly. She thought she saw Jenny’s eyelids flutter, but when there were no further signs of movement, she dismissed it as a trick of the light. Gently, she placed Jenny down on the ground, taking off her jacket and draping it around Jenny’s shoulders.

“Right,” she said softly, tucking a lock of Jenny’s hair behind her ear. “You’ll be all right, love.”

Jenny’s eyes opened. “I don’t doubt that, Roberta,” she said, smiling. “I’d be more concerned about you.”


	5. Chapter 5

“God, Gil, how many concussions have you gotten in the past two weeks alone?” Buffy was demanding.

Gil blinked, head spinning unpleasantly, and opened her eyes. “What—happened?” she asked blearily.

“Why did you spend so much time close to Ms. Calendar?” Buffy replied with exasperation. “You  _knew_ she could wake up and try to kill you, right?”

“Oh, that’s not my intention,” said Jenny idly from the book cage.

“ _That’s_ the part I don’t get,” said Cordelia, pointing at Jenny. “She didn’t kill Gil.”

“Maybe I’m biding my time,” said Jenny.

“Ms. Calendar knocked you out,” Willow explained sympathetically, placing a hand on Gil’s shoulder. “Or, um, not Ms. Calendar, I guess.” She glanced nervously over at Jenny— _the vampire,_  Gil reminded herself. “Then we heard the noise and came in, and Ms. Calendar just kind of backed off and let us lock her in. She’s been staring at us all for the last twenty minutes. It’s super freaky.”

“Angel’s off getting another Orb of Thesulah,” Buffy added. “He’s trying to see if he can find one at a shop out of town. He says he should be back in about an hour.”

“I really couldn’t care less,” said Gil frankly, and tried to stand up. “ _Ow._ ”

“I did hit you pretty hard,” said the vampire conversationally. “Might leave a bruise in the morning.” She had the same matter-of-fact way of talking as Jenny, and she hadn’t put on her game face; her countenance was still as lovely as it had been in life. It was somehow worse than seeing Jenny monstrous and angry. Gil got the sense that the vampire knew that.

“Shut up,” said Buffy to the vampire.

“ _Don’t,_ ” said Gil fiercely without thinking.

“It’s not her,” Buffy reminded Gil very gently. “We need to all remember that, okay? It’s not her.”

“I don’t care,” said Gil, eyes on the vampire, who was smiling smugly as though some theory of hers had been proven. “Don’t shout at her. She’s going to be gone in a few hours, anyway, so we can all at least be civil.”

“Not gone,” said Xander pointedly.

Gil turned to him. “I’m sorry?” she said carefully.

“How come we didn’t get to give Jesse this treatment, huh?” Xander demanded suddenly. “How come with everyone else it’s ‘vampires are evil, nothing good left in them,’ but when it’s Buffy’s boyfriend or your bosom buddy—”

“Emphasis on  _bosom,_ ” said the vampire, and quirked a smile at Gil.

“Shut up,” said Xander. Then, “What?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” The vampire turned innocent eyes on a stunned Gil. “I’d love to say I’m shocked, but—”

“Shut the  _fuck_ up,” said Willow fiercely, striding forward and rattling the bars of the book cage. “That’s not yours to tell. This isn’t your life.”

Xander and Buffy stared at Willow, then each other.

“It’s my life  _now_ ,” said the vampire. “Even when Jenny comes back, she’s not gonna be the same. This kind of thing…changes a person.”

“I don’t care,” said Willow. There was an edge of steel in her voice. “That’s  _not_ yours to tell.”

The vampire nodded thoughtfully. Then she said, “What about what I know about you?”

Willow faltered. “I don’t—” she began.

“I know why you  _really_ wanted extra credit,” said the vampire. “Jenny always knew. Straight A student, always hanging around for  _extra opportunities?_ ”

Gil saw where this was going, and she wouldn’t have it. It was one thing for the vampire to reveal their relationship, but very much another for it to out a girl who was just now becoming comfortable with her sexuality. “Don’t,” she said.

“Why not?” said the vampire cheerfully. “Not much you can do to stop me, not with—”

Gil opened the door, stepping in and pulling the vampire to its feet. She thought she saw the vampire’s eyes soften for a moment, but then it was grabbing at her throat.

“ _Gil!”_ Buffy shrieked.

“Seriously,  _why_ does she always do things like that?” Cordelia inquired.

Gil tried to elbow the vampire. It hit her in the face again. “Wow, you really never learn, do you?” it said, marveling. “It’s no wonder Jenny was in love with you. She always did go for the stupid ones.”

“Wait,” said Xander. “Ms. Calendar was in love with Gil?”

“ _So_ not what we need to be focusing on right now, Xander!” shouted Buffy.

Willow flew at the vampire. It pushed her back with one hand, then pulled Gil tight against it, hard enough to bruise. “Missed me?” it asked sweetly.

Gil struggled hard.

The vampire stopped, and loosened its grip ever so slightly. Gently, it raised a hand, straightening Gil’s glasses. “Roberta,” she said, very softly, her eyes dark and loving. “You holding up okay, sweetie?”

“Jenny,” said Gil in a small, broken voice, forgetting for a moment where she was.

“ _Wait,_ ” said Xander. “Is  _Gil_ in love with  _Ms. Calendar?_ ”

“Your grades really aren’t reflective of your perceptiveness, Mr. Harris,” said the vampire in a way that was not at all like Jenny. Mocking and biting, no playful sweetness to her smile. “I’ll expect better from you if you’re taking my class next semester.” Its grip tightened on Gil, and it yanked her in front of it, holding her like a shield. “I’ll be going,” she said. “Resouling isn’t really my style.”

“Oh my  _god,_ Gil,” said Buffy. She sounded like she was trying to be exasperated, but there was genuine panic in her eyes. “ _Why_ did you let her get to you?”

But Gil looked over at Willow, who was the only one who knew all the reasons why she’d done what she’d done. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t wait too long to be honest, Willow.”

“You know, there isn’t a moral for  _everything,_ ” said the vampire, and backed out of the library, still holding Gil in front of her.

* * *

“We’re taking your car,” said the vampire.

“Oh, so you have a specific location where you want to kill me?” said Gil as dryly as she could.

“No,” said the vampire, and ripped a strip of fabric from Jenny’s dress, tying Gil’s hands tightly behind her back.

Gil didn’t struggle. Something seemed off about the situation, and she felt like panicking might make it more difficult for her to think critically about what was going on. “Right,” she said. “My car keys are in my jacket pocket, then, and my car’s in the usual spot.”

“Who got my teacher parking space?” the vampire asked as they walked down the front steps of the school. “Was it that science teacher who always made fun of you? Her name’s escaping me right now—Ms. Dougherty?”

“Ms. Nelson,” said Gil quietly, “and no. Your space is still up for grabs, actually.”

“Hmm,” said the vampire. Then, “So I’m guessing you found out Willow’s gay, huh?”

“What are you doing?” Gil asked.

“Making conversation,” said the vampire, and shrugged in a way that was painfully Jenny-like. Everything about the vampire was painfully Jenny-like. “You’re not going to die tonight, Roberta, so you can definitely relax.”

“Why should I trust you?” said Gil doubtfully.

The vampire smiled cheerfully. “I helped you cast that demon out of the Internet,” she said, a parody of Jenny’s sweet, genuine affection. “I think that merits some level of trust.”

“That’s not funny,” said Gil quietly.

“I thought it was pretty good.” The vampire stepped over to Gil’s car, unlocking one of the doors.

“Aren’t you concerned that the children will chase us down?” Gil inquired pointedly.

“Not really,” said the vampire, and gently helped Gil into the car, as though she hadn’t been the one to tie Gil’s hands behind her back in the first place. “They’re going to be waiting for Angel because they want me resouled. It’ll be Willow who comes up with it, and Xander who convinces Buffy to agree, and by that point I’ll be dead anyway.”

Suddenly, Gil understood. “You’re going to kill yourself,” she said. “Out of spite for me.”

The vampire started up the car. “Jenny just wanted to be loved, you know,” she said. “She hid it pretty well. She loved you, yeah—she never needed to  _try_ to love people. She was just kind of like that. But she wanted to be loved so badly that she wouldn’t even admit it to herself.” She kept her eyes on the road. “I love you, Roberta,” she said conversationally. “Always will. But Jenny never let herself hate you, and I can do that too now.”

“Why?” Gil asked softly.

“You know why,” said the vampire.

Gil thought for a moment. “I’ve failed you in many different ways,” she said finally. “I want to know what I could have done differently. If you really want to hurt me—”

“You didn’t love her back.” The vampire’s voice trembled. “She just wanted that  _one thing,_ Roberta, and you wouldn’t give it to her.” As Gil opened her mouth, the vampire added, “Don’t give me some crap about always loving me. It’s too late for that.”

“You know I love you,” said Gil, a dull ache in her chest. “You know, or you wouldn’t have come up with this plan in the first place.”

“Not necessarily true,” said the vampire. “I know your sense of duty. I know how easily Jenny guilted you over that Eyghon crap. I know you take full responsibility for casualties when Jenny’s death was never an accident. She was a part of it too, you know. She knew what might happen, and you chalk it up to you not being there or loving her enough.” She smiled, eyes never wavering from the road. “You’re not going to forget me, Roberta,” she said. “You’re always going to remember that you couldn’t save her because of me.”

“Why do you want me to remember you?” Gil asked. She thought there were tears in her eyes, and wished she could wipe them away.

“I love you,” said the vampire matter-of-factly. “I also really hate you, but that doesn’t erase how much Jenny loves you.”

“Loves?”

“I don’t think she’ll ever stop.” The vampire stopped the car, studying Gil’s face. “Not even when there’s nothing of her left.”

Gil tried to open the car door, forgetting that her hands were tied behind her back. “Are we done?” she inquired.

“Oh, no, you’re staying in the car,” said the vampire calmly, and got out, locking the car doors.

For the first time, Gil felt a sudden rush of panic. It had been easy to convince herself that she could find a way to stop the vampire when they were driving, and the vampire had been so cavalier and composed. It had made her feel strangely safe, even if it had hurt. But now she was in a locked car, hands quite literally tied, and she was going to watch Jenny die when she’d had a chance to save her.

“I’m sorry,” she called desperately. “Jenny—please.”

“Jenny isn’t home right now,” said the vampire, smiling sweetly. “She’s coming later.”

And suddenly, Gil knew what the last part of the vampire’s plan was.

“You’re not watching  _me_ die,” said the vampire. “The fire’s going to start really kicking in when Jenny gets her soul back.” She turned on her heel, heading towards the abandoned apartment building that the car had been parked relatively nearby.

Gil attempted to kick in the windshield. It didn’t really work.

The vampire was setting itself up in the second-floor window, smiling down at Gil. “Hey,” she called. “See if you can tell when Jenny shows up.”

“Please, please, no,” Gil begged, even though she knew the vampire couldn’t hear her.

“You had your chance,” said the vampire with a nonchalant shrug. “You made your choice. That’s the way it goes.” It held a lit candle up, carefully setting the curtains ablaze.

Gil struggled hard against her ties—and after about a minute, they loosened. “Right,” she said weakly, remembering the soft, thin material of Jenny’s black dress. “Brilliant.” But time was of the essence, and she was still in a locked car.  _Her_ locked car. “Bloody brilliant.”

The fire had started to spread. The vampire held her chin up high, but Gil could see a touch of fear in her eyes.  _Really, it was just like Jenny to die trying to make a point,_  Gil thought, and felt more than a little guilty at that thought. She hesitated, studying the windshield of her Citroen, and then punched it as hard as she could, trying to call back the strength she’d had as a demon summoner in her twenties.

The glass cracked, but didn’t shatter. The vampire looked startled, as though it hadn’t expected Gil to try and destroy her own car in order to save her. Gil suddenly recalled the one time she and Jenny had washed her car in the late summer, both of them laughing and talking and drinking lemonade. She realized that whatever happened tonight, she would never be in the sunlight with Jenny again.

“Don’t,” said the vampire. There was a strange catch in its voice. “No. Roberta, don’t.”

“I-can-do-what-I-damn-please,” said Gil through gritted teeth, punctuating each word with a hard punch to the glass. At the last punch, enough of the glass shattered that she could squeeze through. 

“Roberta,” said the vampire, and coughed. The fire was building. “You don’t—you’re not going to die here, okay?”

Gil pulled herself through the hole, hands bloody. She wiped them on her slacks. “Neither are you,” she said.

The vampire shook her head. “I’m dying tonight,” she said. “You’re not. I won’t let you.”

“I don’t think  _letting_ has anything to do with it,” said Gil, and took a breath before running through the doors of the building.

There was smoke. There was an intense, dizzying amount of smoke. Gil had forgotten that vampires didn’t need to breathe, and hadn’t accounted for how much smoke there might be even on the lower floor. How much fire would there be on the second floor, then, where the fire really was. For a moment, Gil was all but frozen with fear, but then she remembered what was at stake, and that was enough for her to push through and keep running.

The vampire was on the upper floor. Gil couldn’t make out her silhouette through the smoke, but she could make out the curls of flame from the burning curtains, flame that was slowly spreading across the floor.

“What, did you pour  _gasoline?_ ” Gil gasped.

The vampire turned. “Get out, Roberta,” she said fiercely. “You’re not strong enough to get me out. You know that.”

Gil staggered toward the vampire’s voice and half-collided with her. She held on tight. “Come on,” she said, fierce and weak. “Come  _on._ ”

The vampire shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “I’m not going.”

“And I’m not one for grand romantic gestures, but look where my life is at right now,” said Gil. She wasn’t sure how much of it came out audible; the smoke was making it hard to think. “Come on.”

“No,” said the vampire.

“ _Gil!_ ” Buffy’s voice was audible from outside. “Gil, what are you  _doing?_ Get  _out_ of there!”

Gil made a decision. They were near the window, near enough— “I love you,” she said, and kissed the vampire before pulling it completely into her arms, holding tight. Vampire or not, Jenny was still small and easy to lift, especially when she was surprised.

Then she jumped.

She’d find out later that it was more of an undignified  _trip_ , but it still got the job done.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ow,” said Gil weakly.

“Oh my  _god,_ ” said Buffy angrily. “Gil, what the hell were you  _thinking?_ ”

Gil opened her eyes. She was lying sprawled on the concrete. Next to her was the vampire, much more bruised and bloody than Gil herself felt. It seemed as though the vampire had attempted to lessen the blow of impact for Gil when they hit the ground.

“She was holding on really tightly,” said Buffy, seeming to notice where Gil’s attention was directed. “I think she wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Did she have her soul?” Gil asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied. “I don’t think it mattered.”

The vampire’s eyelashes fluttered. “Ow,” she said softly, in a way that didn’t sound at all like a soulless, evil creature.

“Don’t get too close,” Buffy warned her, but Gil was already moving towards the vampire, pulling her gently up into her arms. “ _Gil,_ do you  _want_ to die?”

Gil kissed Jenny’s forehead. “Darling,” she said softly.

“Roberta,” Jenny murmured, resting her cheek on Gil’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”

“It’s all right.” Gil stroked Jenny’s hair. “Buffy, do you have a car?”

“I borrowed Cordelia’s,” Buffy replied. “Is—does she have her soul?”

Gil didn’t answer.

Jenny looked up at Gil, eyes very soft. “I love you,” she said, voice thin and fragile. “Did you—know that, baby? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gil whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jenny reached up and stroked Gil’s cheek. Then, unexpectedly, her eyes glowed golden. She reeled before falling back into Gil’s arms, completely unconscious.

Gil stared, breathing hard.

“That wasn’t Jenny,” said Buffy quietly. “That—”

Gil knew who it was that had confessed her love.  _I’m dying tonight. You’re not. I won’t let you._ “She really did love me, I think,” she said. “In her own way. Certainly not in a safe or sane way, but she still loved me very much.”

Buffy was quiet. Then she said, “I’ve never known a vampire who used their last words for love.”

“Good and evil are very simplistic concepts, Buffy,” said Gil. “As are love and hatred. There is nothing in this world untouched by either, I expect—not even vampires.”

Jenny stirred.

Gil forgot everything else that she had meant to say. “Jenny?” she whispered.

Jenny uttered a sharp, pained breath and held tightly to Gil. “Hurts,” she mumbled.

Gil started to cry. “Jenny,” she murmured tearfully. “My Jenny.”

It was so strange, remembering that this small, fragile woman in her arms was the cold, forbidding figure that had so calmly stood at the second-floor window, watching Gil punch a hole through her windshield. Jenny looked up at Gil with soft, dark eyes that were full of love and pain, and Gil felt like some missing piece of her had snapped back into place.

“Oh, god,” Jenny whispered. “Oh, no. Roberta—”

“It’s all right,” Gil tried to say, but she was crying, so it came out a little less coherent than she’d have liked.

“Roberta, I  _remember._ ” Jenny’s voice shook. “What I did.”

Gil kissed Jenny clumsily. Her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, peppering her face with off-center kisses. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you. I love you.”

“Stop.” Jenny pulled back. “I—you could have  _died._  Running into a burning house like that—”

“You’re here,” Gil whispered.

“You can’t do that, okay?” Jenny sounded like she was trying to be authoritative, but also like she was trying not to cry. “Promise me. No more doing reckless shit just to save me from my own poor decision-making.”

“Perhaps now isn’t the time to request this sort of thing of me, dear,” said Gil vaguely. “We do n-need to have a serious conversation about—our relationship—but I just—” She pulled Jenny very close.

“Okay.” Jenny sniffled, hugging Roberta back. “Yeah. Good point.”

Buffy awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Right!” Gil pulled back a bit. “We should—”

“Get going,” Jenny finished.

“Yes,” Gil agreed softly, and kissed Jenny properly for the first time in nearly a month. “Yes,” she said again, pushing Jenny’s hair back. Jenny all but melted into the kiss, placing her hands on either side of Gil’s face—

“ _Guys,_ ” said Buffy gently. “I think Ms. Calendar probably needs medical attention.”

“Mmno, ‘sgood,” Jenny mumbled against Gil’s mouth.

It was the most difficult thing Gil had ever done, but she broke the kiss, standing up slowly with Jenny still in her arms. Jenny nestled her head against Gil’s chest, closing her eyes.

“Right, then,” Gil said. “We’d best head back to the library. I’m sure everyone’s quite concerned.”

“Probably.” Buffy smiled shyly at her. “I—I’m sorry, Gil.”

“About what?”

Buffy winced a little playfully. “All those times I said Ms. Calendar was your  _best friend_ seem reeeally incorrect all of a sudden.”

“ _Really,_ ” said Gil.

Jenny giggled softly.

* * *

There was quite a lot of commotion when Gil returned with Jenny cuddled in her arms. Or—more accurately, the most commotion came from Willow, who shrieked very loudly, knocked over a stack of books on the table as she jumped up, and then immediately started whisper-panicking to anyone near her about whether or not she’d been too loud and upset Jenny’s new super-senses. Cordelia’s eyes went very wide, and for the first time, Gil saw a soft sympathy in them. Angel looked down and didn’t say anything.

Xander stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly to Gil. “I—I just miss Jesse. Makes me wonder, you know—if he’d lasted as a vampire, maybe we could have saved him too.”

“I understand,” said Gil simply. She couldn’t imagine the kind of hurt she’d be feeling if Jenny had died before the spell could take hold.

Jenny stirred. “Hey,” she murmured. “We in the library?”

“Ms.  _Calendar._ ” Willow sounded near tears.

“She’s all right,” Gil reassured the room. “A bit banged up, but she should be fine.”

“I’ve had worse hangovers,” quipped Jenny.

Gil kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure you have, dear,” she agreed. “Buffy, would you be so kind as to get the first-aid kit in my office?”

“Roger that,” Buffy agreed, throwing a quietly happy look over her shoulder as she left.

Gil sat down in one of the library chairs, Jenny in her arms. “I expect I’ll have to find a more permanent solution in regards to keeping sunlight out of my apartment,” she said quietly, “but I’ll draw the curtains tonight when I take you home.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jenny all but purred.

“Wh—oh,  _dear lord,_ Jenny, you  _just_ fell out of a burning building,” said Gil, trying to sound exasperated but mostly coming out a bit tearful and happy.  _God,_ she’d missed this woman. “How can you  _possibly_ be coming on to me right now?”

“I’m versatile,” Jenny replied, nuzzling Gil’s neck and pressing a quiet kiss there.

“Okay,” said Xander. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page here—you guys have a gay thing going on, right? It isn’t all in my head?”

“It’s more of a  _bi_ thing, actually,” Jenny corrected. “But—” She looked hesitantly up at Gil.

“We’re in love,” Gil clarified.

“Wh—oh!” Jenny smiled, eyes sparkling. “Yeah, um, yes. Apparently. That’s—yeah.”

Gil kissed her.

“All right, let’s get you bandaged up,” Buffy announced, coming out of the office with the first aid kit. “Come  _on,_ guys, didn’t you do enough of that in the car?”

“Why, do you have a problem with girls who date girls?” said Willow in a high, somewhat nervous voice.

“Not at all!” Buffy sounded positively indignant at the concept. “I just have a problem with gratuitous making out when Ms. Calendar really  _does_  need medical attention.” The last part of her sentence was punctuated with a very pointed look at Gil and Jenny, who reluctantly broke apart.

“Oh.” Willow exhaled, smiling. “Good.”

Gil shifted Jenny in her lap so that Buffy could reach a few of the bruises. “Mostly superficial,” she said. “It doesn’t look like any bones have been broken.”

“I guess that’s that vampire strength for you,” Jenny replied with a small, tense shrug.

Something occurred to Gil that she didn’t all the way like. “Jenny,” she said suddenly. “I—never gave you the opportunity to—choose.”

Jenny frowned. “Choose what?”

“Whether or not you wanted to be brought back.”

“What?” Jenny blinked, and then her face softened. “Oh.  _Oh,_ honey,  _no,_  don’t worry about that, okay?”

“It’s a fairly significant decision, Jenny,” said Gil quietly. “It’s not something I can just brush under the rug.”

Jenny shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said. “I—had a lot of things I wanted to do, before I died. I wasn’t at peace when I died. Granted, this isn’t  _exactly_ the way I’d have chosen to come back, but it’s also not something I’d change.”

Gil didn’t feel convinced.

“Roberta,” said Jenny gently, a playful note in her voice. “Look at me. Don’t you think I’d tell you if I thought you did something stupid? You know how good I am at that.”

“I—”

Jenny kissed Roberta’s nose. “We’re going to work this out,” she said. “I’m here, and I’m going to find a way to anchor the curse so that we can have sex, and—”

“Definitely didn’t need to know that,” said Xander.

* * *

Gil walked down to Jenny’s grave, hand in hand with her lover. “Is it—strange?” she asked haltingly.

Jenny shrugged. “It is and it isn’t,” she said. “It’s not like I feel a big emotional attachment to  _Jenny Calendar, No Birthday, No Date of Death._ ”

“I’m sorry,” said Gil quietly. “I—wasn’t very involved in the funeral process, or I’d have—”

“Roberta.” Jenny squeezed Gil’s hand. “I—I’m not the same person who got put in that ground. You know that, right?”

Gil turned to look at her. There was an unusual vulnerability in Jenny’s eyes, one that she hadn’t seen for a very long time. “I’ll love you no matter who you are,” she said softly. “Even if you don’t know who that is yet, I’ll be here. I can promise you that.”

Jenny gave Gil a flicker of a smile, stepping into her arms. Gil held her. It was enough.


End file.
